


Her Heart's Soft Ticking

by caramelcoastal



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, It's more like, Sad, Well - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcoastal/pseuds/caramelcoastal
Summary: Angela would never have told Amelie how she felt when they were younger. She was married, and she loved seeing her happy with Gerard. Those feelings were much better buried in the recesses of heart.But now it's years later, Gerard is dead, and Angela is left with the task of bringing the brainwashed and broken woman she loves back to who she once was.And it all starts with getting her heart beating again.





	1. Raspberries

Angela looked over the woman she once knew with a cold, clinical perspective. Any sentimentality for her was buried deep in her heart, far away from everything. At that moment, to feel anything for the spider would get in the way of what had to be done. 

“Winston, where are the other two?” she asked in an empty tone.

“Gabriel is being kept in a glass room. We’ve taken his guns, ammo, trench coat, and mask. He’s not happy, to say the least. The other girl is being kept under top surveillance, and most of her tech has been removed. Oddly enough, some of it appears to be attached to her body,” he read from the clipboard in his hand.

“What does ‘top surveillance’ imply?” Angela looked up from the blue woman for a second.

“Lena, Jesse, and Reinhardt.” He chuckled, putting the clipboard down. “She’s going nowhere.”

Angela wasn’t laughing. “Why isn’t Ana there, too? Wouldn’t she be better suited to make sure she doesn’t escape?”

Winston scratched the back of his neck. “She really wants to see Amelie. You know, the whole…” He pointed to his eye, referencing the older woman’s missing appendage. Angela rolled her eyes, and gestured for Winston to leave while she examined her old friend. While Winston said nothing, he was taken aback by how Angela was behaving. This wasn’t like her. 

Angela got into the nitty-gritty of the examination. The blue skin was an oddity, for sure. Someone- she couldn’t remember who- told her that Amelie’s heartbeat had been slowed to improve her sniping. That made sense, she supposed. Her back still had that same stupid spider tattoo from all those years ago, and it was almost kind of humorous to see that she continued dyeing her hair purple well into her thirties. 

Amelie had always hated the natural color of it, a color that both Angela and Gerard found beautiful on her. The doctor leaned back and chuckled for a moment, thinking about the first time she’d walked in with it looking like that: purple hair, with striking winged eyeliner. As odd as the color was, it was definitely sexy.

Amelie always knew how to take a man’s breath away. And a woman’s too. Angela would never say that out loud- Gerard was her friend, after all, it would be selfish, and the two just seemed so happy together. Putting her own dumb feelings in there would just muck things up for the two of them. She was alright just being friends with the gorgeous, long-legged girl. And maybe that was for the best. After all, look what expressing love for Amelie got Gerard. 

Annoying secret crushes aside, it felt good to think back about the times they’d spent together when they were younger, and full of hope, and optimism for the world and their futures.

Those really had been better days.

Angela’s warm smile, fueled by reminiscence, soon faded, as she crashed back to reality. She couldn’t approach this like the sniper’s once close friend. Those times were behind them, and she had to think of what exactly she was going to do with this woman. Amelie was always the more creative of the three of them, always thinking her way out of sticky situations. 

“Oh, Amelie, you would know what to do…” she whispered softly, unable to resist running her hand through the frenchwoman’s silky hair. It probably still smelled like cherries. Or was it strawberries? Angela wracked her brain for a moment. What kind of fruit did Amelie’s hair smell like?

Well, this was an examination. To examine something, you have to use your senses. Smell was a sense, wasn’t it? If she smelled her hair, it would just be part of the examination, wouldn’t it? Angela glanced over to make sure no one was in the hallway, and checked one more time to make sure Amelie was really out of it, before she began to, ever so slowly, bend down and bury her face into the purple thick locks. 

Inhaling deeply, everything around Angela began to melt away into background noise.

Raspberries. It was raspberries. 

She found herself stuck there for a moment more before sitting up. If someone walked in on that, it would probably seem creepy. But, it wasn’t creepy, since it was for the examination, right?

Just as the daze wore off, a hateful French voice snarled at her.

“Where am I? Who’s there?” Amelie growled, trying to move her arms and legs that had been bound to the bed. When Ana knocked her out, it must’ve been way before they dragged her into the medbay, bound her to the medbay bed, and changed her clothes from the skintight latex to the hospital gown. 

“You’re in the medbay, Amelie. You’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you, but you aren’t allowed to go free.” Angela tried her hardest to regain her composure and act entirely as the sniper’s doctor. Her impersonal tone wavered a bit towards the end, but she hoped Amelie was still half out of it, and wouldn’t take notice.

Amelie looked up for a second, and froze as her eyes hit Dr. Zieglar. Neither of them said anything, for several agonizingly long seconds, before Angela grabbed a clipboard covered in completely unrelated documents and pretended to look at it to break the awkward glances. Amelie spoke first.

“So, Gabriell, Sombra, and I failed?” 

“Yes. You got caught. Jack has a lot that he’d like to say to Gabriel, and Sombra isn't going anywhere, so get comfortable.” Angela wrote a big check on the clipboard, to make it seem like she was actually doing something. 

“So, we’re your prisoners, then?”

“Something like that.” Angela checked Amelie’s vitals again to avoid eye contact. Nothing had changed; she still practically had no pulse to speak of. The monitor tracking her heartbeat only once in awhile showed any sign of life, with an extended flatline occasionally interrupted by a beep. 

“So, what are you going to do with us?”

“Well, with Gabe, Jack honestly thinks he can get through to him. With the girl you refer to as Sombra, who I assume is the girl with technology built into her, I don’t know what.” She paused.

“And with me?” 

Angela said nothing, staring down.

Anger rose in Amelie’s already toxic voice. “Stop pretending to use that clipboard and tell me what you’re going to do to me. My mission went badly, I’m a prisoner, my teammates are captured, and if by some miracle you do release us, Talon will kill us for failing our mission. The least you can do is tell me what you people plan on doing to me.”

She knew the clipboard was a just a cover after all? She always good at reading that sort of thing. Angela tossed it down on an empty bed and turned to face Amelie.

“I’m going to try and fix your heart.”


	2. Ivory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the surgery, Amelie awakens and speaks with Angela.

The first procedure was fairly standard. At least, as standard as starting the love of your life’s heart could be. Even though she knew it would take much longer without any assistance, Angela demanded that she do it by herself. If anyone was going to bring Amelie back, it had to her, and her alone. Genji and Winston both came up to check on her and see how she was, but the door to her office was locked, and she refused to open it.

“I’m in the middle of something right now, please check back in later,” she told them, refusing to look away from the sniper for a second.

Getting her heart going again at the correct pace wasn’t an instantaneous thing. If Angela had immediately fixed it to beat at a normal human heart rate of 60-100 beats per minute, it could have possibly backfired and caused heart failure. Rather, she changed it so that it would gradually start to beat faster over time, and it wouldn’t be overwhelmed and go into cardiac arrest. As for the neural reconditioning Amelie had initially been put under by Talon, it was already waning, and it wouldn’t be much longer until she returned to the same Amelie from all those years ago. 

The thought that she’d have the woman she once loved back in her life again made Angela giddy, but she’d never say that out loud. 

In her unconscious state, Amelie let out a low groan. A long stitched scar ran across her exposed, blue chest, stitches that would eventually have to be opened again. The anesthesia would wear off soon, and her eyes would flutter open again. Angela had so many questions, so many things she wanted to talk about with her, but she had a feeling that Amelie wouldn’t be in a chatty mood when she awoke. Years ago, before everything had fallen apart, waking Amelie up was a herculean challenge of strength and patience. 

Ten minutes flew by, and Amelie still hadn’t woken up. Angela decided to go get a glass of water from the kitchen while she was waiting. She hadn’t even so much as gone to the bathroom or sat down since she started operating. The H2O felt earned. 

Jack was in the kitchen, eating a sandwich piled high to the ceiling meats and cheeses. Watching Angela walk in, he almost dropped it, focusing all his attention on her. “Are you okay?”

She raised an eyebrow, and responded as she filled a glass of water at the sink. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” 

He put his lunch down and shot up out of his chair, rushing over to get a look at her. “Do you know how long you were working in there?” 

Taking a sip of her water and shrugging to dodge the question, Angela looked outside. The sun was setting a bit, it couldn’t have been more than a couple hours. 

“Angela,” his voice, firmly stated, “it’s been twenty eight hours. You worked in that office operating on her for over twenty eight hours.” He reached forward in an attempt to feel her forehead for a fever, but she knocked his hand away, irritated.

“Don’t patronize me, Morrison. I had to stay up in order to work on her. I’m not a stranger to missed sleep, and I’d do it again if I had to. It’s not like you would have done any differently if you had to save Gabe,” she snapped, almost slamming the glass of water down. He’d struck a nerve, somehow.

Taking a step back, Jack sighed. “Sorry I bothered you, then.” 

She turned away, and felt a twang of guilt in her chest. The older man just wanted to see if she was okay. Lashing out on him was unnecessary, to say the least. “I’m fine, Jack. As soon as I know she’s okay, I’ll get some sleep. Thanks for checking up on me.” 

“Eat something too, please,” he asked quietly, returning to his sandwich. To put him at ease, she grabbed a banana, refilled her glass of water, and turned away. The old man meant well: she knew that. 

As briskly as she could, Angela scuttled back to her office, eating the banana along the way. Amelie had awoken, and was counting the tiles on the ceiling of the medbay. Her silky hair cascaded and flowed like a raspberry-scented river, pouring over the edges of the pillow her head was propped up on. She looked like a wounded goddess there, with her locks out of that ponytail, lying in the bed, surrounded by all the soft white sheets and dressed in a hospital gown. An angel with a broken wing resting on a cloud until she got the chance to fly away.

“Your… procedure went well…” Angela had trouble forming words, taken aback by her majesty.

“I expected nothing less from you. You were one of the best doctors in the world when I met you, and that was so many years ago, now,” Amelie whispered softly, flickering her eyes over to stare at the doctor standing in the doorway. The two made eye-contact and held it for what felt like centuries. It was awkward, and quiet, and covered Angela’s skin in goosebumps.

To break the silence and avoid spilling her heart out on the white and gray patterned floor, Angela took a familiar, clinical tone. “Apparently, you were out for a full twenty eight hours while I performed the operation. How do you feel?” 

“I feel,” she took a deep breath, turning her gaze from the doctor back to the ceiling, “at peace. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“That has nothing to do with the anesthesia.” Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and fall at her feet.

“I know.” A small smile crept upon her lips; it was not filled with malice like most of her smiles were.

The doctor slowly approached her patient, in a manner akin to how a child would approach a doe seeing once for the first time. This all felt so fast, so sudden, so surreal. Amelie was back, and she was smiling at her, and Gerard wasn’t anywhere close to where they were. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. If it was a hallucination, then she prayed she’d never come to her senses. If she’d died and gone to heaven, then spending all that time doing charity work paid off.

All the while, unbeknownst to both of them, the tips of Amelie’s fingers had turned from their usual lifeless blue to a faint, soft ivory that was just beginning to take hold.


	3. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie is changing, and Angela can see it.

In the blink of an eye, two weeks had flown by, and everything was starting to change.

Amelie’s hair had grown longer, causing the black roots to begin to peek out. Her purple hair dye was also starting to fade, giving way to her natural ebony. It didn’t look very nice, but for reasons unknown, just the sight of it sort of comforted Angela. However, that was a minor change, compared to what was happening to her skin. Color had started returning to her, creeping up her arms all the way from her nimble, slender fingertips, to her dried-up and cracking little elbows. Halfway up her calf, as well as the tip of her nose, were also beginning to return to her natural soft peach color.

Angela, who began sleeping in her office just to make Amelie was still there in the morning, woke up one day to find her staring out the medbay window at the sea outside. A bird’s soft chirping had began to blend in with the lapping waves, forming a symphony that seemed to almost call to them both.

“Good morning, Amelie,” Angela whispered, finding herself once more falling in the wake of this amazing woman.

“Bonjour, Dr. Zieglar,” she greeted, her nostalgia-soaked tone reflecting her thoughts more than any words could. “You know, I was never a morning person. The night always seemed to call to me. And yet, the mornings here in Gibraltar invoke a feeling in me. I can’t put it into words.” She got quieter, reaching up to trace a finger across the window. 

Angela gazed at her lovingly, wanting more than anything in the world to walk up from behind her and wrap her arms around her cold chest, and never let go. But something, maybe a fear she hadn’t yet acknowledged, kept her bare feet glued to the cold hospital floor. How could she let herself fall like this again? She cursed herself, and her weak foolish heart that wanted more than anything to be welcomed by someone that she used to know.

“Now, Angela, I haven’t been allowed to see either of my cohorts. How are they? Are they alive? Gabriel and Sombra?” She turned around, flicking a cat-like eye to look at her. The light from the window silhouetted her dancer’s body in a way not the greatest poets in the world could have described.

If Amelie was just any other patient, Angela would have noted that by showing care for the two of them, her sense of empathy and emotion was returning, meaning that so far, everything had gone according to plan. But she was not just any other patient. She was the love of the doctor’s life, and she didn’t even know it. Clearing her throat, Angela struggled to put the words together, but eventually found a way to make what resembled a coherent sentence.

“Sombra has grown rather attached to Lena Oxton, and her wife, Emily Oxton. She’s seemed to have formed a genuine connection, which is good. Gabe is,” she turned away. “... Searching for a former clarity.”

Amelie raised an eyebrow. “Is he okay? I thought you said he was safe.”

“He is. He’s fine, as fine as a half-dead, grouchy old man can be. He wanted to see you very badly but I told him you weren’t allowed to have visitors. Jack needs to work things out with him.”

The frenchwoman’s lips curled upwards in a smile. “Just so you know, he’s completely still in love with his ex-husband. I know for certain; I read it in his diary.”

Angela suppressed a giggle. “Okay, Gabriel ‘Reaper’ Reyes used to refuse to look at dogs he passed by on the street in fear saying ‘aww’ and being seen as weak for it. He’s not the kind of man that would keep a diary, you’re messing with me.”

Amelie curled her hair around her pinkie finger and smiled. “He does, though. He calls it his ‘thought journal’, but it’s really a diary, and Sombra uses it to get info on him. I always read it to make him mad.” Her cat-like eyes gave a playful look, her smirk never really leaving her lips.

The doctor laughed so hard at the idea of the old ex-Blackwatch commander keeping a diary that she actually let out a snort, which embarassed her horribly, but caused the sniper to fall into the laughing fit as well. Soon enough, they were both giggling fools, drunk on each other’s company.

When the laughter died down, Angela was left with a glowing feeling in her stomach. She sat down, and the sniper sat beside her. The two exchanged a brief smile and a reminiscent look that Angela wished could last forever. 

Of course, everything ends eventually, and the light mood quickly became somber when Angela got up to get Amelie something to eat. They were pancakes, covered in strawberries, sugar, and a whole can of whipped cream. Pancakes were always her favorite. 

Except this morning, when Angela brought them to her, she didn’t smile, or take the plate. She just stared dead ahead, as if she was staring right through the doctor into oblivion. A concerned hand was placed on her blue-skinned shoulder, as Angela wondered if something was going wrong.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, afraid that something horrific was going to happen. Maybe she was suffering cardiac arrest, or was about to have a seizure that would cause permanent irreversible damage. Was this because of the procedures to revert Amelie to the woman she once was? All of the blame would fall on the Dr. Zieglar’s shoulders: she would have been the one to metaphorically slit Amelie’s throat. She quickly put the food down, and reached up to her love.

The almost lifeless gaze from the widow’s cold eyes didn’t break, but her lips parted, and she managed to put the words together. “Pancakes were his favorite, too,” she said softly, in a tone of voice almost too faint to hear. 

All at once, Angela’s heart fractured in several places. For her late friend Gerard, for the love of her life, and for herself. Even though he was gone, it seemed the closer Amelie came to being the woman she was, the more present he was. It was to be expected that she would start to miss him, now that she could reflect on her actions, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. A gaping hole grew in Angela’s chest, as any thoughts of their shared moment earlier faded away into the back of her mind. 

“I’m sorry I upset you by making them. I’d hoped you would have liked them, but, I’m sure someone else will. Do you want me to make you anything else?” Angela asked, fighting the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. It was selfish to be upset about her missing her late husband, she thought to herself. There was no good reason for her to feel hurt. And yet, she was.

“No. I want nothing right now. Thank you,” Amelie replied quietly. She headed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, turning the shower faucet on. Even when they were younger, whenever something upset her or shook her up badly, she’d take showers long enough to drain the whole building of hot water. 

Angela turned and walked out, feeling like a complete idiot for upsetting her that badly. Tomorrow, she thought quietly to herself, she’d bring her oatmeal with brown sugar and cinnamon. Amelie had always loved that, and hopefully Gerard’s horrible touch hadn’t tainted that too.


	4. Cliff-Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela checks on Amelie after hearing something go bump in the medbay at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really long b/c I felt bad for disappearing on you guys like that, lol

Angela had been awake at 2 a.m., as she was many nights. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be kept up by her own restless soul, her guilt, or work. She’d become accustomed to the sounds the night made; Winston snoring in the room beside her, the pacing sounds of Jack outside as he kept guard, or the chattering of a keyboard as Lena messaged her Emily, bed springs screaming from Hanzo and Jesse’s bedroom, the lapping of waves hitting the shore.

One noise, however, she wasn’t used to, was loud crashing from the Medbay. She felt her heart slink down to her stomach as she jumped up and sprinted faster than Lena to the office. Maybe Amelie was trying to leave, or worse, someone she’d hurt had come to exact some kind of revenge on her. Zenyatta came to mind; she did slaughter his brother in cold blood.

When she threw the door open, she found a sight much more beautiful and calming than that. Amelie was extending her long, sultry leg into an arabesque, reaching forward, using her IV stand to steady herself just a bit; the ballerina had become a tad bit rusty and weakened, and who could blame her?

Angela stood in the doorway, staring at her in absolute adoration. She was fine, more than fine. She was dancing, just like how she used to. Amelie knew she was there, but didn’t acknowledge her, sweeping her leg back to the ground and raising herself to a relèvé.

Angela watched her for a few moments more before she started to shut the door, only for a smoky French voice to speak up.

“I know you weren’t sleeping Angela. You weren’t intruding, and I wouldn’t object to you staying,” she called out quietly to the doctor.

Turning to look at her, Angela crossed her arms. “How did you know I wasn’t sleeping? Hearing that awful noise, I had to run in here and make sure you were okay. What even was that?”

“Every night, Angela, light would pour out from under your door, and I could see the shadow you cast as you paced about. I know your heart is heavy with guilt, mon amie, I know that it won’t let you sleep.” She gave her a sympathetic smile.

Angela ignored that, frustrated with Amelie for reasons she couldn’t put together. “That doesn’t answer my question. What was the noise? Did you break something while dancing?” She noticed behind her that there was a table with medical tools knocked over. One of Amelie’s sweeping legs must’ve knocked the thing over. Great, more for her to do, now she had to clean them off.  
“Now I have to sterilize those, why didn’t you even bother to pick them up?” Her tone had grown a little aggressive, the gaul of this woman- to act like she knew her. Amelie knew nothing about her, except for everything.

“I was afraid to touch them. They’re yours, you were always so particular about your things.” She bent down, lifting the table up to begin picking up all the stainless sterilized steel tools Angela kept. The sniper’s relaxed tone didn’t raise at all, she ignored the aggression and brushed it off as one of Angela’s moods. Probably caused by sleep deprivation.

The anger in Angela subsided after watching her do that, she could never stay angry at her. She always barked at people touching her medical supplies, that was true. But Amelie was different; she could touch anything of Angela’s that she wanted.

“I know when you go back to your room,” Amelie said as she stood after picking up the last tool, “you won’t go to bed. I get lonely in here all night, why don’t you step in for a moment and stay with me?” Angela sighed, giving in to her request. She couldn’t turn her down if she wanted to, anyway, it didn’t matter. They sat together on the Medbay bed, shoulder to shoulder.

“You really are a wonderful dancer, Amelie. I’ve always admired your grace. I’m a horrible dancer,” she started, smiling at her hands.

“Je vous remercie.” She smiled, bowing her head a bit.

Angela couldn’t help herself, over sharing was a bad habit of hers. “You know, I used to come in and watch you practice. The way you move is just so hypnotic, it’s as if gravity doesn’t exist for you,” she confessed, scratching the back of her neck in discomfort.

Amelie turned to her and giggled a bit, resting her fingertips on Angela’s slender shoulder. “Oh, I know you used to watch me. You do realize how many mirrors there are in a ballet studio, right?” Amelie continued her giggling, somewhat savoring the doctor’s embarrassment.

Angela’s cheeks turned red. “I didn’t realize I was visible.”

Amelie shook her head. “For me, personally, I always perform better when I have an audience. Almost like reverse stage-fright. My performances were almost always better when someone was there. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t like that when I started dancing, though. Back then, even when I was being watched, I danced as if I had been born with two left feet.”

“I doubt there was any period of time where you didn’t look elegant and graceful while you danced, Amelie,” Angela said, staring down at her feet and wondering if she was beginning to lose her mind. Here she was, having a casual conversation with a partially blue-skinned assassin that she knew she was putting way too much trust into. It all felt so stupid and comforting at the same time.

Amelie started to laugh a bit. “Are you kidding me? Angela, of course there was a period in time when I was an awful ballerina.” She paused, thinking back for a moment. “L'académie de Ballet de Camilla Charbonneau: the dance academy my mother put me in when I turned fourteen. I hated my mother, Camilla Charonneau, and ballet for years after that.”

Angela seemed shocked. “You hated dance?”

With a sigh of old frustration rushing back over her, Amelie moved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I could never love something forced upon me. My mother’s own dancing career ended swiftly after she broke her right leg during a performance. After she recovered, they said she couldn’t dance anymore. And then, it was forced upon me.” She balled up on the bed, crossing her arms and resting them on her knees. Her toes peeked over the edge of the bed.

“I hate when parents live vicariously through their children. How selfish can someone get?” Angela scoffed.

Amelie shrugged. “I hated dancing, and ballet. Mademoiselle Charonneau was… Oh, what was the word Gabe always used… A hardass?”

She looked up at Angela for a nod of approval that she had used the word correctly. Angela nodded, and she continued. “She was a hardass. And I hated her, until one day she held me late after class, nagging me about how I didn’t bend my knees the way she liked. I shrugged her off; I didn’t care what she had to say to me. When my mother came to get me, Mademoiselle Charonneau asked her if she could take me home with her to tutor me, and that she’d drop me off when we were done.”

“Take you home with her? Teachers can do that? That sounds like you’re asking for some creep teacher to pray on your child,” Angela stated, looking baffled. When her mom was alive, she wasn’t even allowed to walk to the corner store alone, let alone go home with someone she barely liked.

“My mom trusted Mademoiselle Charonneau, the old bat had been her teacher, as well,” Amelie said with a light-hearted chuckle.

“That’s ridiculous. My mom didn’t even trust her own parents alone in the room with me.” All this talk about mothers made Angela yearn for a hug from her own. She spoke quickly, to get her mind off of it. “So, what did she do when you got to her house?”

“She gave me iced tea and sat me down at her table to talk. I explained to her that my mom had become obsessed with me becoming a dancer after her accident, and she told me that ballet is something beautiful that should never be forced upon someone like that. And that, if I wanted, she would no longer make me perform, would lie to my mother and tell her that I was improving, and just let me sit on my phone during class.”

“Did you take her up on that?”

“Believe me, I was considering it. But she also offered a second option: a private tutoring lesson in her backyard. She believed my problem was that, not only was dance forced upon me, but that the dreary, dull environment in the dance studio didn’t stimulate me. She thought that perhaps, in a different setting, I’d experience dance differently. I very reluctantly took her up on that offer.”

Angela was invested, not because she thought the story was particularly interesting, but because of who it was coming from. “What did it look like?”

Amelie shut her eyes, thinking about the backyard again. The cobblestone pathways, the soft white fence that surrounded the expansive garden, with the French countryside all around them. The lanterns hanging from the trees, illuminating the backyard like tiny little embers, as the French sky began to burn, fizzle out, and set at a pink and blue hue. Flowers of all different shapes and sizes, fruit nearly ready to be picked, and towering trees that could probably tell many stories lines the whole garden. She would always remember walking into it for the first time, and falling in love with it.

“It looked like magic, Angela. I wish you could have been there to see it yourself,” she reminisced, a tinge of nostalgia in her tone.

Angela smiled at her. “Let me guess- you fell in love with dancing out there?”

Amelie laughed a bit. “How did you guess?”

“Well,” Angela leaned back, “you’re still dancing today. I know for a fact that you didn’t just give up.”

Amelie put her arm around her friend. “Yes, that was the night I had come to realize two of my greatest loves in life: dancing, and nature.”

Angela smiled, and leaned on her shoulder. “I bet you miss being outside fiercely.”

Amelie shrugged. “It is what it is. But, yes, I suppose if I had a choice, I’d rather be out there than in here.” She deeply hated the clinical medbay air. It was unnatural, and almost suffocating.

The good doctor’s eyes scanned over to the door, as her hand reached into her coat pocket. The keys, and clearance pass were in there. She could so easily take Amelie outside, and no one would know. At least, they wouldn’t know right away. Jack watched this place like a hawk, and Angela would be put on thin ice for freeing a wanted murderer and terrorist. And yet, the warm feeling growing in her chest and spreading to her head, her fingertips, to her toes- it wanted to see that familiar, glowing smile on Amelie’s lips again. Angela’s fingers grasped around the clearance pass.

“I could… Let you step outside, if you’d like.” Angela looked to see if the security camera Winston would be monitoring at that time could see her. When she realized she and Amelie were out of its view, she showed Amelie the key.

Amelie was tempted, for sure. “You’re freeing me? Angela, won’t that get you in trouble?”

“I’m not freeing you. It’d just be a short trip outside together.” she reached down, brushing her nail gently against the top of Amelie’s hands. “Maybe we could take my car and drive to the cliffside.” She remembered when Amelie had first arrived, how much she loved that cliffside. The two girls would constantly eat picnics there together, overlooking the ocean.

“That sounds nice, Angela, it does, but if it gets you in trouble-”

She raised her finger to the sniper’s lips. “Stop. I don’t mind getting in trouble. If getting in trouble means I can see you truly happy again, then I’ll gladly put up with a couple hours of getting screamed at by Morrison. Better that than seeing you frown.” How could Amelie not know how she felt for her?

Amelie looked up at her, and without another word, nodded,

Angela interlocked their hands and helped Amelie to her feet. She pulled her clearance pass out and took a path that would specifically avoid any of the cameras, or the patrolling grouchy old man in the halls. After so many sleepless nights, she’d picked up on his path, and easily knew how to avoid it.

The thing that almost gave them away was the giggling, from both Amelie and Angela. The air was filled with a playful mood, as if they were two Catholic school girls sneaking out behind the nuns’ backs on a school night. They were hiding behind corners, waiting for Jack to leave, dodging the watchful view of security cameras, and sliding along the walls. The good doctor felt as young as she looked, for once.

Once they were home free, Angela bolted towards her car, clutching Amelie’s hand. She didn’t struggle to keep up at all, despite having to push the hospital gown down every time the wind decided it wanted her to flash herself to the world.

Angela unlocked the car, and they both simultaneously threw the doors open, jumped in, and slammed them shut. Angela turned the key, and sped off into the night, just the two of them.

This- this was how it was meant to be. And part of her just wanted to drive off and never turn back. They could move forwards together, forever, and eventually, she hoped her love would love her back. They could run away to the French countryside, where they could grow a beautiful garden together, full of fruits and vegetables, and flowers every color of the rainbow. And every evening, they could snuggle up on the porch steps of their french home and watch the sun melt over the horizon line. They could make love, and no one would be around for miles to tell them to quiet down. On sundays, they could go on picnics together. Of course, Angela would prepare the food, she was always the better cook of the two. They could elope and have a winter wedding, where…

Angela’s brain was off, dreaming of all the possibilities they could have together, while Amelie stared out the closed window. She broke Angela’s daydreaming haze when she asked, “Would it be okay if I opened this thing up?”

“You don’t even have to ask, Amelie.” She smiled.

It was bad enough that half of Angela’s brain was concentrated on her fantasy future, but her gaze was captured by the way the wind tugged on Amelie’s hair. She’d undone her ponytail out a while back, and all of the freed locks of violets, with their raven roots, were captured and tugged by the wind from outside the window. She looked over at Angela and returned the gaze.

“How did you ever make it as a doctor when you barely concentrate on the road? People actually trust you to perform surgery?” she teased.

“Well, when I’m driving, and when I’m performing surgery, I don’t usually have such distractions.” She was lucky that Amelie didn’t hear the way her heart was beating, like it wanted to leap right out of her chest. She started finding it hard to breathe, like her own emotions were strangling her.

Amelie rolled her eyes with a smile. “I’m a wonderful distraction, and you should be glad I’m here.”

She had no idea.

“I am glad you’re here.” Angela replied, exhaling after holding her breath tightly for what felt like an eternity.

“You know, it’s funny. I expected, when you said we were going to take your car to the cliffs, that you would have a new car. This is like, the same care you had when we met. How has this thing not broken down, yet? Why not get a new car?” Amelie asked, brushing her hand against the very worn door handle.

“Because this car is special to me. It’s filled with so many good memories, how could I just give all that it up?” She focused her eyes back on the road.

“All I remember is me crying in here after Gerard would say something insensitive. And then, you’d come and get me, and take me on a drive to calm me down.” Angela smiled, remembering all the times Amelie would curl up against her and cry in the car. She loved that closeness, the warmth of her love’s skin.

“Really? You don’t remember the time we got stuck in traffic and started singing along with whatever was on the radio to pass the time?”

“Now that you mention it, I do remember your tone-deaf singing,” Amelie teased.

“Like you’re any better!” Angela laughed, while steering the car left and stopping as they arrived at their destination. “Maybe you didn’t think the memories in this thing were very good,” Angela said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and swung the door open, “but I cherish them.”

Amelie shut the door, held her arms at her sides. “I never said I didn’t.”

Angela looked over at the cliff, and smiled. “Now, this brings me back.” Nothing had changed, and everything was how they’d found it a decade and a half ago. Same couple trees, same roots peeking over the sides through the earth, same gorgeous view of the sea. Since they were pretty far away from both the base and the city, there was no light pollution to drown out the stars, which allowed them to shine and dazzle brilliantly above the girls, reflecting into the calm ocean like white flowers bursting up from the water.

Taking in the view, and deeply inhaling the fresh air, which smelled so differently than the cold, clinical hospital air, Amelie felt at ease.

“I don’t suppose you happen to have a picnic basket,” she joked, sitting down at the cliff's edge beside Angela.

The moon was right above them, beautiful as it always was. Angela’s guilt-ridden soul felt at ease, and she shut her eyes and exhaled.

“You know what would make this perfect?” Amelie leaned back and laid in the grass, despite knowing that the green would stain her hospital gown and completely give away that they’d run off somewhere, as if it wasn’t obvious already.

“A picnic basket?”

“Well, yes. But I was thinking about cigarettes and wine,” Amelie sighed. She hadn’t had a smoke since Talon had been captured.

The good doctor was dumbfounded. “Let me get this straight- you wanted to come out here because you love nature, and fresh air, but you also want a cigarette, that will totally ruin the fresh air? For god’s sake, Amelie, I didn’t even realize you still smoked.” Angela had spent god knows how many hours trying to get her to quit smoking.

“Yep.” Amelie shut her eyes, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Angela laid down beside her and sighed.

The two enjoyed the silent, ambient presence of each other before Amelie turned to her. They were so close, their noses touched, and Angela felt all the blood rush to her face.

“I really do miss coming here with you, Angie. When it was just us, and nobody else. None of your friends, no Gerard, nobody. It’s like- it’s like you get me more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Angela smiled. “Where’s all this coming from?”

Amelie smiled back. “I don’t think I’ve expressed enough, just how happy I am to see you again, despite the rather unfortunate circumstances that led to us being reunited. And, if there’s anything you want to talk to me about, or ask me about, feel free to.”

Angela thought for a second, and skeptical thoughts and doubt began flooding her head. “Why not push me down the cliff? Or knock me out and steal my car?”

“Why would I ever want to steal that hunk of shit?” She was kidding.

“That’s not funny, you know what I mean, Amelie. I’m vulnerable, I don’t even have my pistol on me. Why not escape? You work for Talon, right? You have every opportunity to just kill me, or knock me out, and flee, escape, and continue doing awful things. Why don’t you? You may be weakened right now, but you at your weakest could still overpower me in a second.”

Amelie frowned, and laid back down. “Because, I don’t want to be like that anymore. I never wanted to hurt people, you know what Talon did to me. They made me into the heartless monster I was. I’ve been a dead woman inside of a living woman’s body ever since I killed Gerard. But you, your operation on my heart, your medicine, your kindness… It’s like I’m returning to form, again. That’s how it feels. They just wanted to kill me, or imprison me, but you wanted to save me. You cared, Angela, and for that, I’m in your debt. You’re more than just my doctor, you’re my best friend. You always have been.”

Angela went mute, choking back the tears fighting their way through her ducts. “You know I would have just let you escape, right?” she whispered, just softly enough that Amelie could make out what she was saying.

Amelie looked over at her. “I know. You’re a fool for that. If I wasn’t healing, if I was the person I was before, I’d kill innocents. You’d let people die, because you want to help me. That’s not good, Angela. That’s damaging.”

“I know.”

Silence filled the air between them once more. Angela listened into the ambient noises; the crickets chirping, the cars passing by, the bird softly cooing in the tree. She had one last question, just bursting inside her, and she had to ask it. If she didn’t ask it now, she would never be brave enough to ask it again, and it would eat her up inside until the day she died.

“If you and Gerard had never met, who would you want to be with?”

Amelie raised her eyebrows, and her whole body jolted a bit. It had caught her off guard. “What kind of question is that?”

“You said I could ask about anything, right?” She spoke firmly, not backing down from this.

Amelie swallowed hard, and looked at her.

She said nothing else.

She didn’t have to.


End file.
